


Teach Me How To Cry

by Apocalypse_the_Abysswalker



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: AU where Killua never runs away from home, Blood, Brothers, Child Abuse, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Emotional, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Pain, Sad, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Sibling Incest, Smut, Torture, Trauma, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apocalypse_the_Abysswalker/pseuds/Apocalypse_the_Abysswalker
Summary: Illumi was trained to be a weapon, a tool without emotions. But no matter how hard he tries to be perfect, sometimes, the mask of perfection slips, and his bottomless eyes show an ocean of suppressed feelings. Only for his brother to see.
Relationships: Illumi Zoldyck/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Teach Me How To Cry

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something beautiful, but it seems that I can only find beauty in pain.  
> Please read the tags, this is not a happy story.  
> I made a short playlist with songs to set the mood if anyone’s interested: http://www.youtube.com/watch_videos?video_ids=lir3dzYIhz0,j9N-v3KURSc,L5uV3gmOH9g,TkV5709EG5M,33hVOJdVw8E,BpmJh2CjSIA,Thazgd1HFus

The dungeon walls are cold, and so are the chains that hold Illumi. Killua snuck out of his room to peek in there, curious.

The sight that greets him is not pleasant. He is still too young to discuss family business, so he doesn‘t know what it was that put Illumi in such a position.

Illumi is unable to stand, so he’s hanging down from the chains that bind his wrists. Still a teenager, but tortured like a war prisoner. Punished by no one else but his own parents.

 _He must have done something truly horrible_ , Killua thinks.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, he sneaks closer to get a better look. There is blood, a lot of it, but Killua has seen enough death and bloodshed to be desensitized to it by now. Illumi’s head is hanging low, and there’s no way to tell if he’s conscious or not. Despite that, the strikes of a whip at his body never cease, as if trying to rip him apart.

His body is covered by deep, bleeding welts. And he doesn’t even flinch at the impact of the strikes against his fresh wounds. It goes on for _hours_ , but eventually, all goes silent.

“Be ready to train tomorrow,“ Killua hears a sentence spoken by his father, and figuring out that the show is over, he sneaks away before someone can notice him.

The boy is horrified; sure, his brother is trained to withstand torture, but to make him train the next day after ruining his body like this? That seems too brutal even for their family.

Later that night, he sneaks into Illumi’s room.

„Illu, hey, Illu-nii,“ he shakes him.

The older brother groans, his injuries disturbed by the violent shaking. He’s shirtless, but his chest is covered by bandages. He sits up, and in the gentle moonlight, Killua notices that blood is seeping through the bandages.

„What is it?“ Illumi asks. His voice is even, unshaken by the agony he must surely be experiencing.

Little Killua climbs into the bed and stares at the bandages, inspecting them closely.

„What did you do to deserve this?“ he asks, wide-eyed, with his childish curiosity.

„It’s none of your business. Go back to sleep,“ Illumi says and turns away to lay on his side and sleep.

Killua is not someone who gives up easily.

„Brother, tell me, I need to know!“ he whines.

Illumi sighs. He wants to sleep, to forget all the pain, and he figures out that the fastest way to make Killua leave is to just tell him.

„Fine. I fucked up a job. That’s it. Now _leave_ ,“ he says, his voice getting a sharp, threatening edge. For some reason, making any kind of a mistake is a sensitive topic for him. He tries so hard to be perfect, but is it even humanly possible?

„But what did you do?“ Killua asks, so persistent and annoying. Illumi is hoping that he would grow out of that childish behavior soon. He should learn that prying into other people’s business is _not cool._

„Just leave it,“ Illumi says, but he already gave up in his mind. He knows how stubborn his little brother is, and it’s quite obvious that he won’t leave until he hears the whole story.

„Come on aniki! Tell me or I’ll stay here!“

Illumi _really_ needed some sleep, and it’s not like what happened was a secret; he wasn’t forbidden from discussing it, at least not with other family members, so he might as well say it.

„I… lost it, I was out of control, my aura was flaring and could probably be sensed across the whole city, it was messy, I killed the target but also everyone in a fifty-meter radius.“

Killua stared at him, fascinated. He didn’t know what aura was, but it was probably not the best time to ask that.

„That’s it aniki?“ he asked, his voice full of doubt.

„What do you _mean_ that’s it?“ Illumi asked, annoyed.

„The target is dead, why would they punish you?“ Killua asked.

„Were you not listening you little _idiot?_ Anyway, you got what you wanted so now _leave_ ,“ he said, his patience running thin.

He wants to be alone with his thoughts, with his own uselessness. But Killua is not letting him have any of that. He moves closer, and suddenly, his little hands are hugging Illumi. It hurts like _hell,_ he’s pressing against Illumi’s wounds, but he barely registers the pain.

Nobody ever hugs him. He’s frozen in shock, staring at the small body hugging him tightly. A feeling of warmth spreads through his chest, an unknown feeling he has no words for.

„Killu,“ he whispers gently, his previous anger gone.

„Illu-nii, you did well, they shouldn’t hurt you like that,“ Killua says, but the words don’t quite reach Illumi.

He’s stuck in his own bubble, without air to breathe, stuck in a place where he feels worthless and not good enough. Unable to acknowledge anything else than him being a failure, a disappointment.

„Aniki, hey aniki,“ Killua says, lets go of him and shakes him again. Illumi is spacing out, dark eyes unfocused, stuck in his personal hell without a way to escape it, locked without a key.

Killua’s feeling desperate, he knows that something is wrong with Illumi but he knows no words to describe it and has no way to help him.

He stares at Illumi, indecisive until he finally gives up and leaves his brother alone to suffer in silence.

* * *

The next day, Illumi is ready to train just like he was told.

He’s training his combat abilities with his father, and Killua has used an excuse to get a break from his training with butlers to take a look at him. Most of the time, he’s trained by Illumi personally, but Illumi has his own training to do, so Killua is left in the care of the butlers sometimes.

Illumi is looking composed and perfectly okay, like he wasn’t just tortured the day before. His wounds must be hurting terribly, but none of that shows on his face. Killua is staring at him with awe. His movements are so graceful, so calculated. He's evading all the strikes at his body with seemingly no effort, without breaking a sweat.

He’s already perfect, what else do they want from him? Killua doesn’t understand it.

* * *

A couple of years later, Killua watches him train again.

Illumi is training his nen powers, his aura. He clearly goes to his own limits, ignores them, and goes further. Ignores all of the warning signs his body gives him, pushes to the point of almost passing out from exhaustion.

During those years, Killua learned about these powers and begun training his own. He has a strict and difficult training regime, but it’s still nothing compared to what Illumi does.

Illumi’s face is blank, expressionless. His body is like a statue, perfect, unmoving. But Killua can see _things_ in the bottomless abyss of Illumi’s eyes, hints of emotions that he can read if he tries hard enough. And he can see desperation. Unable to watch any longer he steps out of the shadows and shows himself.

„Stop and get a break aniki,” he says with a slightly trembling voice. He didn’t want to show just how much he’s concerned about his brother, but it was audible in his words.

Illumi pauses, looking surprised.

„Why would I stop? I’m still not good enough.“

Killua wants to scream at him, wants to hit him, anything to make him realize it. But it’s all pointless, no words seem to reach his brother’s ears.

„You’re going to hurt yourself, you’ve been training for _days_ without a break _,_ no matter how hard you try you’re still a human, there’s no way to be _perfect,_ it’s not possible, stop it, I-…“ he trails off without finishing his sentence and realizes how useless it is to try and persuade Illumi. He still has the same empty expression, same determination.

„You don’t understand,“ says Illumi. „I _have_ _to_ be perfect, for the family.“

Killua is shaking from anger. „Family? Do you mean our parents that _torture_ us? Wake up Illumi, it’s _wrong,_ they’re _wrong!“_

Illumi simply shakes his head. Killua runs to him, hugs him like he does when all words fail.

„Aniki,“ he continues, „I know you’re not okay, just tell me, we’re brothers, we’re supposed to help each other!“

Illumi pushes him away.

„What do I have to do to make you listen?“ Killua asks.

„I’m _fine,“_ is the only response.

But he’s not, and later, at night, when he’s alone in his room, he hates himself. He wants to scream and cry, but simply cannot, that would stain the image of perfection he tries to create for himself.

His door opens without a knock and a slim figure sneaks inside. It’s not difficult to guess who it is. Killua approaches his bed, slips under his blanket without asking.

„Go away,“ says Illumi. But his younger brother makes no move to do so. Quite the opposite, he inches closer, clings to Illumi like a lover would, tangling their legs together, burying his face in the crook of his brother’s neck.

Illumi makes no move to stop him, frozen in place, unresponsive.

„I know you’re sad. You can talk about it, you know? If not with anyone else, then at least with me,“ Killua offers.

Illumi wants to tell him that he has no idea how to talk about the emotions that are trapped inside his chest. It’s just not possible. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. 

When words fail, it’s time for actions. Without thinking it through, overwhelmed by the closeness and intimacy he never experienced before, Illumi grips Killua’s jaw, tips his head up, and kisses him deeply.

Killua makes a quiet sound, almost a moan, and responds to the kiss, forcing his tongue into Illumi’s mouth. Emotions crash inside him like waves. He presses his body firmly against Illumi, so close that he hears his heartbeat that is so fast that it seems like his heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest.

When they separate a few minutes later, Killua’s blushing and panting, and Illumi’s still expressionless. His eyes tell a different story though, they’re so full of emotions. Love and hope are reflected on the surface of the two oceans of a black void.

„If I knew this was all it took to make you feel better, I would have done this _years ago,“_ Killua smiles.

Illumi melts under his brother’s fingertips that gently trace across his skin, sighs in relief when he finally fully gives in and wraps his arms around Killua.

„There you go, I’ve got you,“ Killua murmurs, arms around his brother’s neck, feeling sleepy. The relief of finally melting Illumi’s icy cage clouds the shame of what they did. He refuses to think about how _wrong_ it probably is to let his brother kiss him like that.

They kiss some more, relishing in the closeness. Killua’s heart feels heavy in his chest. Illumi looks so vulnerable, so breakable. He wants to keep him close, save him from shattering.

„ _Stay_ ,“ Illumi says, and it sounds so desperate and broken that Killua can’t make himself leave.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

Morning is full of pain and regrets.

Illumi hates himself even more than before, because of just how _weak_ he was for allowing something like that to happen. He sneaks out of the bed before Killua wakes up.

Despite Killua being the one who approached him and climbed into his bed, he somehow believes that it’s entirely his own fault.

He should have known better than letting anyone else notice how he’s feeling, should have controlled his emotions better. Now Killua thinks he’s _weak,_ thinks he needs to be _saved._ How laughable he is, how pathetic.

He’s sick of himself, of his feelings that won’t go away. Wants to silence them, rip them out of his chest. If only he was stronger, strong enough to _be in control_ rather than giving in to his feelings like that.

Desperate and knowing no other way to shut up his mind, he takes an assassination job, the most difficult and dangerous one that he could get his hands on.

He can’t simply take a regular job, with average difficulty. He would be good at it, complete it perfectly, without mistakes. But that’s not enough for him. Constantly finding ways to prove that he’s the _best_ and that he’s _perfect_ is more of his style. It leaves him exhausted, but it’s the only way he knows. Yet, it’s still unsatisfactory; he never feels _good enough._

This inner turmoil leaves him vulnerable, and he makes mistakes on the job. Small ones that could easily be overlooked by anyone else, but not _him._ His kills are not as clean as they should be. The target’s bodyguards die a few seconds later than he would have liked, and the target himself is an especially messy kill, coating Illumi in blood from head to toe.

He comes home with a defeated expression. Avoiding all places he might meet Killua, he goes straight to the torture dungeon.

„I’ve failed you again, I’m still not good enough,“ he tells his parents when they find him there.

They exchange a few glances, and his father binds his arms into the chains. It’s not that Illumi did _really_ bad on the job, but if he feels like he wasn’t good enough, then why stop him from trying to be better?

 _If he feels like he’s not good enough, it’s probably true,_ Silva thinks, _maybe his potential is bigger than we thought, maybe he still can improve, get better._

So he punishes him harshly, the whip leaving bloody marks on Illumi’s back. He welcomes the sting of pain. He doesn’t enjoy it, only feels like he deserves it. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t change his empty expression.

* * *

Killua finds out about it. He has a talent for fishing out secrets. In the night, he sneaks into his brother’s bed again. His fingers find their way under Illumi’s t-shirt, trace over the bandages.

„What did you do this time?“ he asks quietly.

„I fucked up again. I wasn’t good enough.“

„But what _exactly_ you did wrong?“ Killua asks.

„I-…” Illumi starts, then pauses. Sighs.

„I don’t feel like talking about it,“ he lies. In truth, he knows that his explanation won’t be enough for Killua who has an entirely different perception of what is good enough and what isn’t. The boy would never understand what it means to try to be _perfect._

Lost for words, Killua kisses him. It’s desperate, needy.

„Aniki, what you’re doing to yourself is not okay,“ Killua says when they part.

 _As if what I am doing to you was any better,_ Illumi thinks.

„ _Stop,“_ Illumi says, his voice shaking. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to _feel,_ doesn’t want to _exist_ anymore.

„Fine, I’ll stop _talking._ Then how about this?“ Killua asks and climbs on top of him, straddling him, kissing him wetly and hungrily, his hands roaming his brother’s chest and boldly trailing lower.

„This seems to be the only language that you understand.“

Illumi’s mask cracks, slips away. Feelings buried in his chest surface on his face, pure and unrestrained. There is nothing on his mind anymore except _Killua._ His little brother, his only salvation. The only one that sees and accepts him for who he really is, with all of his imperfections.

Killua’s so hot against him and he melts under his touches, calms down. In their kisses, they share more than they could with words. Killua’s hands are relentless, undressing his brother, touching every part of him.

The searing heat of his fingertips seems to reach under Illumi’s skin, burn deep into his soul, branding him with a mark of ownership. He doesn’t mind being owned, if it’s Killua who will hold the leash to his collar. If it means that he will be accepted, embraced wholly. Loved.

“Brother…” Killua whispers, “You’re already perfect for me. Why is it so hard for you to understand?” Killua asks, not expecting a reply.

He’s hungry for more, drinking up each of Illumi’s soft moans into the kiss, grabbing his brother’s cock, long past caring about possible consequences. There’s no way something like that could make them more fucked up than they already are.

Illumi is hard under his palm, desperately bucking his hips up into the touch. His mind is completely blank, nothing exists except _Killua,_ burning against his skin, filling the air with his scent, his presence. Illumi wants more of him, wants to taste him and touch him and _connect._

Killua came to his room prepared, stretched his ass with his fingers, made it slick with lube. So when he sinks down on his brother’s cock, it slides in with ease. He was planning this, contemplating it for a long time.

It still happened too fast, too early. Neither of them had the time to consider what a boundary it is to cross, how serious it is. How it will change _everything_ between them, change their world.

Still kissing, they lose themselves to pleasure. It feels _right,_ and perfect. Illumi’s overwhelmed, letting his dam of suppressed emotions break and flood everything. Killua’s so small above him, so vulnerable. Doing his best to ride his brother’s cock, but moving clumsily, without experience.

“Is this your first time?” Illumi asks, sounding a bit shocked despite how unsurprising it should be.

“Yes,” Killua answers, blushing and avoiding meeting his brother’s eyes.

Maybe he should have asked _before_ he was balls deep inside his little brother. Maybe he would have reconsidered it, if he knew he was going to be the first one to take Killua. But it was too late for that.

Illumi flips them over, cages the small body with his own. Fucks him nice and slow, hoping to give him the best first time possible. Wants Killua to remember it good and loving until the end of his days, despite his very wrong choice of a person to do it with.

Killua seems to be enjoying himself, moaning, arms around his brother’s neck, pulling him as close as possible.

Emotions crash within Illumi, and he finally knows what he feels, what the warmth in his chest _means_. It is _love,_ and he feels it everywhere, in his breath against Killua’s skin, in his touches, in the searing heat deep inside his brother’s body.

He forgot how to breathe, how to _think._ Nothing exists anymore, nothing else except the two of them, connected.

They never stop kissing, and Killua tastes salt, tears that he’s not sure if are his or his brother’s. It doesn’t matter, because they’re not separated anymore, they’re one. Breathing together, hearts beating for each other.

They bring each other to completion, stain each other’s bodies with their love. They should have known better than to embrace twisted love that can only bring them pain, but when they fall asleep in each other’s arms, it’s the only thing in the whole world that feels _right._

* * *

Illumi doesn’t stop trying to be perfect.

It hurts Killua even more than before, but despite what they share, Illumi won’t listen to him, won’t stop. Quite the opposite, he tries even harder, takes more dangerous jobs. Notices even smaller mistakes, punishes himself more.

He’s sick, obsessed. Wants to be perfect for Killua. But Killua loves him as he is, finds his imperfections a part of what makes him _perfect_. It might make no sense if he tried to explain it to anyone, but that’s what he feels, what his heart speaks.

Illumi knows, but he can’t stop himself from acting as he does. He’s not in control of himself, feels disconnected. Like something else is controlling him. And it’s the iron grip of the family that made him that way, shaping him into a weapon of destruction, but with a mess of broken and confusing feelings beneath the mask of cold perfection.

When the brothers share their guilty moments of passion, everything is perfect. Illumi is Killua’s, giving himself entirely to his brother. They love each other’s touches and attention, bring each other peace nothing else can bring them. It’s liberating.

When they lay in their mess afterwards, limbs still tangled but bodies separated, the distance between them grows again. Illumi hides behind his mask, disconnected from his feelings.

“Stop this,” Killua begs, sobbing. “Stay with me.” Illumi understands what he means, but he’s already gone, back in his cage without a key, his feelings buried six feet under.

They’re both powerless, unable to stop it.

* * *

Illumi leaves for another job, and the only goodbye he gives Killua is a stolen kiss, hidden in an empty hallway.

He doesn’t look back, refusing to see the tears streaming down Killua’s cheeks.

And Killua doesn’t say anything, doesn’t beg him to stay. He already knows how pointless words are.

* * *

It was only a matter of time before Illumi got seriously injured on a job. He was reckless, taking jobs that were suited for two people, all alone. With barely any breaks to recover between them.

His parents didn’t stop him, because they thought that he could assess his powers, and choose suitable jobs. They didn’t even consider the possibility of him acting on impulse, recklessly. After all, he was their weapon, he wasn’t supposed to have any _feelings._

He did finish the job, but the target – a double-star professional Hunter - wounded him severely. He had to be retrieved, unconscious from the blood loss. His wounds were treated by the family’s private doctor, who stated that his life wasn’t in danger. When he woke up days later, all of the family members were gathered around his bed. Instead of compassion, the family looked down upon him.

“Expect to be punished when you heal,” his father told him, “you disgrace our family name. I get a few scratches from time to time, but ending up unconscious and needing to be carried to safety? That’s unheard of, you’re a disappointment.”

The words echo in Illumi’s head, hurting him more than any weapons could. _Disappointment. That’s all that he is. Imperfect and useless._

“What is wrong with you?” Illumi distantly hears a voice. His mind is clouded with pain and he’s feeling so useless that it suffocates him. Barely aware of the reality around him, the words almost do not reach his ears. Everything feels so far away, but with all his strength he manages to focus on what’s happening.

Killua is screaming at their father.

“Don’t you see he’s hurt? How can you be so cruel? It’s _you_ sending him on the jobs that are too difficult, why would you blame him for failing?”

They’re talking about him as if he wasn’t there.

“He chooses his jobs, he must assess the risks and choose responsibly,” their father answers.

“You’re _letting him_ put himself in danger! Why don’t you stop him? Can’t you see what is happening to him? Are you all fucking blind?” Killua is screaming at all of his family members, tears of despair streaming down his cheeks.

They stare at him stupidly, because nobody understands what he meant by his words. Because they don’t know Illumi as Killua does, they have no idea what he’s going through. They only see a mask of cold perfection, and they never question it, never try to peek under it.

“This is none of your business Killu. Let it be,” his mother tells him. And he wants to scream at her to make her realize the harm that she and Silva have done to Illumi, but he has realized by now that his words always fall on deaf ears.

Eventually, everyone except Killua leaves. When they’re gone, he slips under the blanket, hugs Illumi’s broken body.

“It’s okay now,” he tries to comfort him. It doesn’t work, Illumi’s ice again, tense and unmoving.

Killua is patient, he hugs him as tight as possible without disturbing his wounds too much. He can’t see how big is the damage, but there is blood seeping from under the bandage on Illumi’s chest. For some reason, he always ends up hurt and bleeding.

It takes hours until Illumi relaxes, melts against his younger brother. Kisses him. He’s back from the dark place in his mind, back in his brother’s arms.

“Tell me why do you do this to yourself. Do you enjoy getting hurt?” Killua asks. He wants to understand it, to help Illumi. He wouldn’t judge him even if it was true.

“I don’t. I just… deserve it,” Illumi explains, and it’s some progress, he finally voiced a tiny fragment of all the pain that’s weighting him down. But Killua is still just as powerless as before to help him.

* * *

When Illumi is healed, he makes his way down to the torture dungeon. He knows he will be punished, and looks forward to it, feels like he deserves it. His father binds his wrists with the chains, prepares a whip.

Killua interrupts them, barging in, trying to take the whip away from his father’s hands.

“Stop it!” he screams.

“You should know better than to interrupt the matters of the family,” says Silva.

Killua pauses, considers the possible consequences. But he would do anything to protect Illumi from the punishment that is clearly unjust.

He’s ready to fight his father, ready for anything. But he never gets the chance. Illumi closes his eyes, his mouth says an inaudible _sorry._ With his still-bound wrist, he flings a needle in Killua’s direction.

The boy is too shocked to dodge, and the needle sinks into his forehead and knocks him unconscious.

Silva ignores Killua’s unconscious body on the floor and begins to strike at Illumi with the whip. There’s no reaction, no sound escapes Illumi when the whip sinks into his flesh like a blade, leaving deep bleeding marks.

It doesn’t stop until Illumi’s chest is a mess of bloody welts, but he took it bravely, without a sound, without so much as a single sound of pain or protest.

Silva leaves, satisfied. The bastard doesn’t even bother unbinding Illumi’s wrists, or doing something about Killua who is still on the floor, unconscious. Illumi sighs, breaks his chains. Picks Killua up, removes the needle from his forehead. Hugs him tightly, carries him in his arms to his room.

Killua slowly comes to his senses, greeted with a strong smell of blood. Illumi didn’t bother patching himself up. By the time they reach Killua’s room, Killua is soaked with his brother’s blood. Illumi gently puts him down on a bed, turns away to leave.

Killua isn’t having any of that. He hugs him from behind, getting his hands all bloody from the wounds on Illumi’s chest. He’s hurting him, but he doesn’t care anymore.

“Stay,” Killua says, and it’s not up for discussion, it’s an order. Illumi sighs and obeys. Lies down, joins Killua in bed. Hugs him, making a mess with his blood but Killua doesn’t care, he’s lost in his conflicting thoughts. Feeling betrayed but understanding Illumi’s actions.

He wants to scream at Illumi, but he doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. He feels tears on his face, he wasn’t even aware that he started crying.

Illumi kisses the tears away, his own eyes looking teary, on the verge of crying.

“I’m sorry,” he says. As if an apology could fix anything. Killua was there for him, wanted to fight for him and protect him. That was love, pure and unrestrained and beautiful.

Illumi’s love is different, twisted. It’s possessive and dangerous. He betrayed Killua, turned against him, thrown a needle at him. He added to the distance that separates them. Yet, he cannot let go of Kil, no matter how much he destroys him.

He should let go, leave.

Instead he steals a kiss that he doesn’t deserve, forces his tongue into Killua’s mouth. It feels wrong, and Killua is sobbing, his hands that weakly grip Illumi’s arms are shaking.

Illumi is hungry, desperate for comfort only his brother can provide him. And Killua lets him take everything he wants. He doesn’t care if it’s too much, if he breaks. He loves Illumi more than anything, more than himself. He would do anything to make him better, to comfort him.

Illumi’s hands turn to claws and he shreds Killua’s clothes, leaving shallow bleeding scratches on the skin underneath.

He’s terrifying, there’s nothing but darkness in his eyes.

Killua doesn’t fight back, embraces him. Because that’s what it’s like to be loved by Illumi. There are parts of him that are dark, that hunger for blood. Parts that cannot be separated from him no matter what. It’s still _him_ , his beloved brother.

Illumi’s claws turn back to normal fingers, and he licks them, makes them slippery with saliva, and pushes two of them into Killua’s ass. It’s too much all of a sudden, it hurts, but Killua can handle it. He can take it, he’s sure of that.

When Illumi forces his cock inside him, Killua screams, but he’s silenced with a kiss. The pain is too much, he tries to push Illumi away, scratches at the bloody mess of his chest, but he won’t stop, he’s fucking into him relentlessly.

 _“Fuck, I’m sorry Killu,”_ Illumi says and moans, too lost in pleasure to stop.

“ _I love you,”_ Killua says, and he’s a mess, shaking and still sobbing. His eyes turn empty and glassy, and he feels like he’s leaving his body because it’s too much for him to handle. Feels like he’s gone, like his body became an empty shell. He doesn’t feel Illumi’s lips against his, doesn’t taste the salt from the tears, doesn’t know who is crying.

At some point, the pain morphs to pleasure, and he returns to his used body, to the feeling of Illumi’s cock pressing against the place inside him that makes him feel so _good._ His brother’s fingers wrap around his cock and his head is spinning from how amazing it feels.

He’s moaning, and Illumi slows down, becomes loving and sweet again. Kisses his neck, bites him gently without causing any pain. But the damage is done, and Killua is broken. His eyes are empty.

Illumi’s hand strokes him faster, and he fucks into him a few more times before he’s coming, deep inside Killua’s trembling body. Killua comes too, his brother’s hot release inside him is the final thing to push him over the edge, but it doesn’t feel like the other times, it feels forced, he feels dirty and used.

When Illumi recovers from his orgasm and his eyes aren’t clouded by pleasure anymore, he looks at Killua and sees the damage that he’s done. His little brother is trembling under him, crying.

 _I’m a monster,_ Illumi realises. _I know nothing about love._

The worst thing is that Killua still clings to him and kisses him, despite all that he’s done to him.

It’s a terrifying thing, to be loved by someone whose perception of love is twisted and wrong.

Killua feels so tiny in Illumi’s strong arms, his used body is shaking with fear, yet he’s still hugging his brother, afraid of being left alone.

“Stay,” Killua says with a broken, trembling voice.

* * *

They wanted to be there for each other, to find comfort in each other’s arms, but instead, they are leaving each other in ruins. Crushed down by their twisted love.

And in the dim light of the dying sun, their bodies still tangled together, they both know that there is something wrong with what they are doing and that it should stop. But it’s addictive, they are like a drug to each other, like the sweetest of poisons. Comfort that morphs to destruction too fast.

Neither of them cares what will be left of them when they’re done with each other, because they already went too far, dug their claws too deep into each other’s hearts. There’s no way to escape that hold without bleeding out to death from their broken hearts.

They will give and take from each other until nothing is left.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I am sorry if they felt out of character, but this is how I wanted to write them. Feel free to complain in the comments or on my Twitter (https://twitter.com/abysswalking_a), I do appreciate constructive criticism.


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